


identity

by Zerrat



Series: OTP: Glorious Trainwreck [1]
Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrat/pseuds/Zerrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five tests the boundaries of Four's control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	identity

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for: violence, glorifying in murder, Four's dark and twisted psychology and Five being creepy and inappropriate.

_Decadus is not doing his job,_ Four seethed as she caught the assassin's blade on the armoured plates of her gauntlets, the notes of her song and her own strength turning aside the strike as easily as if it had been delivered by a child. Her lip curled in disgust. What sort of disciple - what sort of manservant at all - would allow his lady to fight her own assassins?

It was disgraceful, she decided as she lunged for the assassin, her heartbeat thundering rapid and powerful in her ears, but despite her best efforts, he all but slid from beneath her blows like smoke on the wind. It only made her angrier, until it blazed white-hot in her chest. Yes, Four would need to have grave words with Decadus for this - perhaps she'd even extend the lecture to Cathedral City's own guard. What sort of security did they have set up, deep in these crumbling old ruins? 

Exactly who was protecting One from... _insects_ like this? It was enough to make her feel ill. 

She pivoted, chamfering a kick and intending to send her boot straight through the man's chest, but the assassin darted back again. His eyes darted above his mask, uncertain for a moment, assessing. Whatever he saw in her, he must have realised how hopelessly outmatched he was, taking on an Intoner. Instead of whirling back in for another useless strike, he did the only logical thing he could, if indeed he wanted to live - he turned tail and fled. 

_Coward,_ Four snarled, instinctively biting back a string of unseemly curses. Over the months, the self-censoring had become like second nature to her now, a desirable reflex when her first instincts - to maim and destroy - seemed to garner her naught but disgust and loathing. Perhaps she might have been able to turn aside such judgments, only they came from the only one who mattered. They came from _One._

If One wished it, it was only right that Four kept such impulses bottled up and buried, but she would not deny that such soft mercies at her sister's whim was what made the dissenters feel safe enough to send assassins! Of course, there was no convincing One, for all Four had tried. Instead, she was left to handle _situations_ \- blessed exceptions to the rule that Four could never admit she dreamed of - in which violent examples were permitted to be set. 

With righteousness on her side, it did not matter how much Four enjoyed it. 

They were rare, achingly so, and she would _not_ allow such a moment to make a difference to pass her by! She sprinted after the assassin, tearing down the wide keep staircases after the man's shadowy form, her blood pounding and fevered.

She hummed, tightly controlled song trickling down to her legs as she pursued, forcing her faster and faster until the world was a blur. With the added speed, she was gaining on him, and however fast the assassin was, she was an Intoner and she _would be victorious_ -

As the assassin cleared the last of the stairs and headed for one of the many halls off the main entrance - it would be far harder to track him through a crowd, Four realised belatedly - gold flashed to the side, a blur of song and momentum. It slammed into him like a comet, sending his blade spinning off to the side with a twist of its wrist, all dark and gold fury. The cross-shaped blade strapped to its back smeared crimson with yet more blood, snaring Four's attention so easily.

 _Five._ Four froze, staggering for half a step, off guard. In her fevered pursuit, she hadn't even caught the roar of Five's song until the very end. Now, it was impossible to ignore the way it crackled with life, roaring through the distance between them. The normally shallow notes lengthened, deepened, becoming something voracious and snarling instead.

Five didn't turn to look at Four, her fist tight in the front of the assassin's shirt. With ease, she lifted him until he dangled above her, her lips curling in a deceptive smile as she watched him clutch at the ridges of her armour, his breath rapid and sobbing. Four's stomach curled in on itself at the sight of his fear, a hot shudder running through her before she could think to suppress it, deny it.

"Well, well, well," Five was telling him in a low voice, the pitch of it just barely audible as Four approached their position. "I can't say I recall having invited men of _your_ talents to our keep."

Sour indignation scoured Four's insides at the very idea that Five would _dare_ invite any such lowlives to their seat of power, at the very idea that Five should involve herself in such tasteless -

"He's mine!" Four snarled, flashing forward and tearing the man from Five's grasp, heedless of her sister's murmur of surprise. This was _her_ prey, _her_ freedom to destroy. If Five had a problem with it, then - then - 

Four slammed the assassin back into the cathedral keep's wall, the impact so hard and brutal she was certain she heard bones crack and break beneath the force of it. Oh, of course One would have had her reservations, had she been present - Four's stomach twisted, because One _always_ did - but now was no time for luxuries like mercy. 

No. Mercy was a fool's dream when this man had employers that required a message to be delivered. Somewhere behind her, Four heard Five's heels on the flagstones as she slowly approached. The sound, usually so sharp and cutting in Four's mind seemed dull and muted beneath the roar of their songs, the thundering of her own heartbeat. Four swallowed, her mouth feeling parched, almost trembling at the way the notes of Five's song slipped across her flesh, just shy of a physical touch. 

Five didn't seem to be stopping her, though, merely watching - _good._ Four's mouth twisted in derision. Maybe her only younger sister would learn something for a change. She turned her attention away from Five with a jerk, despite the way the notes of her sister's song seemed to cling to her own, sticky and pliant. Still clutched in her grasp, the assassin looked dazed, staring through both Intoners and into the distance. 

"Who sent you?" Four demanded, shoving the assassin back into the wall once again to make her point. That seemed to earn her a reaction, his eyes refocusing for a moment, blood bubbled up over his lips. She felt a thrill run down her spine at the sight of it, the bitter twist in her stomach igniting again, becoming something hot and feverish, and the man gurgled something. 

_Not good enough._ Four's eyes narrowed, and she shifted, wrapping the elongated joints of her claws about the man's throat. She squeezed slightly, testing him for his limits - humans were such a fragile species, of course. She'd learned that well. They never stood a chance against an Intoner or a disciple. 

In the end, that frightened them. 

That was why rebels yet stood against the reign of Intoners, even after they'd done away with the tyrants that ruled them. Even after they'd been _freed_. Such people were the enemy, really - forever standing in the way of what was good for the world. This man - this assassin - was just a symptom of the wider illness that afflicted humans, and she felt nothing but contempt for it. 

Her patience was wearing thin.

"Answer me!" Four's grasp tightened then, her voice high and harsh. "Which family thinks they can get away with this? Which one of them thinks they can do away with me like some common _human_ -"

The man heaved a broken gasp, hot, wet blood splattering across her face, and reflexively, she jerked away from it. It was but a fracture in her attention, but it was enough. Her claws sank deep into his throat, breaking through skin, muscle and cartilage as easily as tearing apart travelling rations - and ending her only chance at answers. 

_How wasteful,_ she thought vaguely, her attention snared on the glint of her claws in the torchlight. Her thumbs had been buried deep in his flesh, hot blood bubbling up around the metal joints, running down her gloves and soaking her white sleeves. She'd always considered it such a wonderful colour. 

The man's gaze was unseeing in the seconds before his death, and the sense of unreality snapping, Four snarled, realising how she'd been cheated of both the answers she required - and her fun.

Disgusted and so furious she could taste the bitterness on her tongue, she dropped him to the flagstones, watching him land in a broken heap. Her shoulders sagged, her breath coming harsh and hard as she stood above her enemy, her clawed hand heavy at her side, her sleeves soaked in cooling blood. She couldn't seem to stop shaking, her entire body flushed hot from the violence. 

It was all too easy to lose herself in it.

At times like these, she could never quite figure out what was meant to be so wrong with such a picture. What was so wrong with _her_. Four swayed, reaching out to steady herself with a hand to the wall, watching her gloved fingertips smear red on the whitewash. She swallowed, her mouth dry.

"Four," Five murmured, her breath suddenly warm against the shell of Four's ear. Her lips lingered against the lobe, the dart of her tongue sending impossible heat down the length of Four's spine. 

When had she closed the distance between them? Four couldn't recall, her mind still caught on the sensation of the assassin's throat giving way under her strength. A warm arm slid about her hips, pulling her back flush against Five's curves. Four's mind didn't even stutter, too dazed to remember that all of it was bad, that Five in such close proximity never ended well for any but _Five._ Her sister hummed beneath her breath, immensely pleased about something, before demanding fingers clasped at Four's chin, the grasp as sure as iron. 

The angle of it was terrible, Four's head twisted roughly to the side, but none of that mattered at all when Five's lips mashed against her own. The kiss was messy, ravenous and dizzyingly wet with tongue, Five's breath hot againt the cooling blood flecks on her cheeks. Four would have staggered but for the arm Five had locked about her, devoid of thought but for the thunder of her pulse in her ears, the sticky blood on her hands, the sensation of Five's mouth against her own. 

For a moment, just a moment, Four groaned into it helplessly - shaking, desperate, _pathetic_ \- before thought and propriety returned to her with a devastating click. 

She was kissing Five back in the open keep hallways like - like some common _whore._ Even lacking the courage to look around, she could just feel the cold, judgemental eyes of servants and soldiers on them. 

She felt ill from it, cold shame warring with horrifying heat. What was she _doing?_

The body on the ground before them hardly seemed to factor into Four's alarm as she shoved Five away, aghast not at what she'd done to the man, but what she'd enjoyed. She was snarling something, wiping her lips against the leather of her gloves, the words coming before she could stop to think, 

"How - how _dare_ you -"

"You looked like yourself," Five cut in, for once without preamble, her voice low and heavy with meaning. She shifted, resting her hand on her hip, amber eyes narrowed, before she smiled. The raw heat faded, the intensity of it left only to Four's imagination. "It's such a rare sight I just had to savour the moment, Four. Who on earth could blame me?"

Four stared at her sister, struck wordless, her hand falling back to her side. Five returned her gaze, still smiling as if she was waiting for something. As if she _expected_ it. Four's jaw firmed, and she straightened, no matter how difficult it was to forget the slick blood on her claws, the slide of Five's tongue against her own. 

She shuddered, feverish, the heat rising in her cheeks, before she looked away. 

All of it was undesirable. _Always._ She should be ashamed of her slips and everything else. 

"It's _inappropriate,_ " Four managed after a moment, and despite roar of fire in her chest, her voice didn't shake at all. Her gaze flickered back to Five, catching on the curve of her sister's lips, that awful fire banking and growing until it felt so close to devouring her every objection. 

Five heaved a sigh, and as she closed the distance between them with long, languid strides, she continued. "But you wish for another anyway." 

_Yes._ It sent an ache right through her. Whether Five was referring to the killing or the kiss, for Four, the answer was shamefully identical, horrifyingly immediate. 

Her response to that ache, to that question, would never change, however. 

"Of course I don't." 

The lie was usually more believable - _usually._ The majority of the time, Four had never needed to contend with the memory of the light fading from the assassin's eyes, of hot blood on her skin. She wasn't defenseless against the memory of the way she'd whimpered, disarmed at the first brush of tongue. 

Five hummed beneath her breath, and idly, she lifted her bare hand to her lips, swirling her tongue around the pad of her thumb. Her amber eyes fixed on Four's, heated and inviting and burning. When Four didn't move, her heart pounding in her ears and frozen in place, Five extended her hand, smoothing her thumb across Four's cheek, carefully, _gently_ wiping the sticky blood splatters away. 

The shiver that raced down Four's spine would have been obvious that time, but still she didn't even think to move away. It was the heat in Fives eyes, she decided, her mouth parched, and they burned brightly it was almost enough to make her forget. 

"That really is the only difference between us, dear sister," Five murmured, her fingertips ghosting across the line of Four's jaw, seemingly careless but so painstakingly deliberate. "We both want the world, and why shouldn't we? I pursue what I desire, though. I don't play games and pretend I don't."

"It's not pretence," Four answered, more softly than she should have, loathing the undercurrent of uncertainty that had leeched its way into her voice. Was it pretence, when there were times she couldn't tell what really was her, and what was just strangling self-censure she could barely understand? 

She was so twisted up inside - what she was and what she longed to be at constant war with one another. 

One thing was always so clear, though, stark against Four's every doubt, fear and indecision. Unbidden, her gaze flickered down to the assassin, to the pool of blood he'd fallen in, and blistering heat rose up in her chest once more. It burned just as Five's eyes had, devouring and consuming, and so different to the numbness and ice that encased her chest. 

For the life of her, Four could not tell which was better. She knew which One preferred. She believed she knew which _Five_ did, too. 

"...that's enough." Four exhaled sharply, refusing to consider it further, to make the choice Five seemed so hungry for. Perhaps that, really, was Five wanted it in the first place. Instead, her jaw set as she recalled her ire with her disciple from earlier, and she turned away from Five, determined to be done with the matter. "I'll have Decadus clean the mess up, as a price for his failure today. With his tongue, if need be."

Five laughed then, loud and delighted, and despite her best efforts at control, Four's cheeks flushed hot.

"I'm not sure if you mean the blood on the floor or the one you've made of your panties," Five breathed, leaning in close over Four's shoulder, her voice pitched low. "Next time, perhaps ask your dear sister to clean up your... messes. I love to use my tongue at least as much as your Decadus does."

"Five." Four didn't beg - _refused_ \- but the tremour in her voice made a lie of the control she scrambled for. 

_And what exactly would I beg for? For her to put an end to it, or for more?_ Four's thoughts were cold and hateful, disgusted with herself - for her weakness, for her indecison. She shivered as she felt Five smile against the back of her neck, suddenly starved for air, and she impulsively braced herself against the blood-smeared wall as she felt her sister press an open-mouthed kiss to the skin. 

"Consider it," Five said, only pulling away when she was done. 

Four didn't run, but she certainly did not waste any time as she set off up the stairs once more. Her muscles felt stiff, her movements clumsy, and she could _feel_ Five's gaze lingering on her back. It bore into the flesh between her shoulder blades, silently offering something Four could never accept. 

She forced her mind back to One, to her sister's disappointed gaze if she found out how impure Four's thoughts truly were. It was immediately soberinng, the embers in her chest flickering, dying down. When she thought on the world, on how One tasked them with protecting everything...

Four paused for just a moment, snarling and lashing out, her gloved fist impacting hard against the keep's wall, her breath coming hard and fast. Five was wrong. 

_My desires always come last, and I must be good and kind. I must protect the world._

Well, how could Four even think to do that, if she had to deal with her own assassins? She'd have words with Decadus - she'd need to do it immediately. It might take some effort, but she was certain she could show him exactly how he'd failed her. 

By the time she was through with that unpleasant task, Five's words would be nothing but a distant, uncomfortable memory.


End file.
